


Outfit from Hell

by Canchuon



Series: HashiMada [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Humour, Izuna is jealous bby brother, M/M, Madara had to get his potty mouth from someone dontcha think?, Warring States Period (Naruto), bc madara took it way too far and stole his boyfriend, happy holidays!, hashirama lives with the uchiha, or my attempt at it, very self indulgent au, young hashimada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:42:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28281090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canchuon/pseuds/Canchuon
Summary: Madara refuses to let his dad pick clothes for Hashirama. To him, he's perfect just the way he is. Izuna is having way too much fun.
Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara
Series: HashiMada [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689580
Comments: 10
Kudos: 54





	Outfit from Hell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EldOchFlamma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EldOchFlamma/gifts).



> Christmas gift for my wifey :)))))) 
> 
> So this is based off this other au I have (hopefully I'll finish writing it soon) and this is like a crack alternate ending to it based on my conversations with le wifey and this [post on twt](https://twitter.com/Canchuon/status/1330610507502350337) that was born from her saying hashirama's head looks like a dick head when he's wearing the Uchiha high collar robes lolol y'all be the judges of that, I personally think he'd look adorable :P

At last, Madara had finished all his assigned missions and chores for the day, which to his dismay had taken much longer than he had first anticipated. He was glad though since they didn’t require him having to leave clan grounds. It was not as if he didn’t trust his family or other clan members, actually quite the opposite, he trusted everyone with every single nerve of his body; however, it had only been around two months or so since Hashirama had arrived and Madara’s main concern was making sure he felt comfortable and safe around the people in the clan. The situation seemed to go smoothly except for one person. Izuna. He had been insufferable since the very first day, grasping whatever chance he could get to play pranks on Hashirama and then throwing tantrums whenever Madara frustrated his little diabolic plans. An uneasy shiver shook him from head to toe as he recalled the last Izuna incident that involved a very sharp kunai very conveniently placed under Hashirama’s pillow.

“You’re back!” Izuna greeted him as he slid the screen door open, “I just got home too, not that long ago,”

Madara hummed as a way of greeting. It wasn’t that late yet, only barely past their usual dinner time, the interior of the house was still lit by the quickly disappearing streams of dusk. He realized they were the only ones currently at home at the sight of the lack of footwear by the entrance. 

“Where’s Hashirama?” he asked, pushing past Izuna and onto the corridor that led to the bathing room.

“What? You’re not gonna ask how my day was?” Izuna replied with an annoyed tone, “It’s always " _Hashirama this–Hashirama that" …_ What about me!?” 

Madara sighed. Every single day he had to at least get one complaint from his younger brother. They were becoming part of his daily routine by this point. 

“Do you know where he is or not?” he asked again, ignoring the grouchy Izuna loitering behind him to focus on getting the wooden tub ready for use, “You stayed with him after I left, I thought you'd still be with him,” 

“I was with him but then I had some errands to do, too,” Izuna said as he passed Madara some firewood when he gestured for it with a vague hand, “He’s probably with dad so stop being such a worrywart,”

Knowing that Hashirama was with his father didn’t put him at ease either. Sure, it was way better to leave him on dad’s hands rather than Izuna’s mischievous claws but he tended to get… a bit too comfortable with Hashirama. He would call him nicknames, tag him along as if he was his lackey, pet his hair, tell him the same lame stories, joke with him, as well as many, many other peculiar things that Madara was certain would surely make him feel awkward or overwhelmed. Surprisingly, Hashirama had never complained about his father’s behaviour, not even once, he had actually grown remarkably fond of him. 

Even so, it didn’t sit well with Madara to leave them together for extended periods of time, there was this continuous need to be there and supervise their encounters somewhere inside of him, just in case something would take the wrong turn, which was highly implausible but still… 

“Well, I wouldn’t be worrying if a certain _someone_ wasn’t trying to get on his nerves all the time,” Madara jeered, shutting the heating stove’s hood sharply once he got the flames going, “You better not have done anything silly while I was away,” 

“I can do whatever I want,” Izuna stuck his tongue out, taunting him, an action that had Madara’s eyes squinting in disapproval. 

He’d have to ask Hashirama later if the devil he had for a brother had been up to no good during the day. Not that asking would help put a stop to Izuna’s shenanigans at all, Hashirama was always oblivious to his younger brother’s childish attitudes toward him. At first, Madara had believed Hashirama was simply swallowing up Izuna’s jealous outbursts out of respect for his family but he soon realized he was simply being his normal Hashirama self. Instead of finding him bothersome or rude, he would often chirp about how _cute_ his little brother acted and how _sweet_ it was that he loved his big brother so much he couldn’t stand being apart from him. Madara had come to the conclusion then that Hashirama was simply too good to see the malicious intent behind Izuna’s antics. Or maybe he was under some spell that had him entirely captivated by Izuna’s debatable charming personality… A mystery indeed.

Just as he was about to retort with a threat to cool down Izuna’s arrogant attitude, Hashirama’s voice calling for him erupted through the house and any current thoughts related to his brother immediately dropped out of his train of thought. He rushed to the entrance and as soon as Hashirama was in his line of vision his legs stopped abruptly, freezing him on the spot. 

“I’m home!,” Hashirama announced, cheery as ever. 

Yes, there was Hashirama, with an alarmingly smug-looking Tajima standing behind him, proud and tall as if he was displaying his best work of art, which happened to be… none other than Hashirama, fully dressed in traditional Uchiha robes. 

“...Wha-”

“What do you think?” Tajima cut in, dropping a heavy hand on top of the dark-blue fabric covering Hashirama’s shoulder, “I had this tailored just for him,” he explained with the most ridiculous satisfied expression plastered over his face. 

It was bad. Very bad. Somehow, the collar of the cloak was way too tall (or perhaps it was the angle from which he was looking) and Hashirama’s ridiculous round haircut was the only thing visibly peeking out from over the fabric. The shape of it looked extremely odd and uncomfortably familiar.

“Don’t leave me behind!” Izuna stormed into the hallway, but his loud footsteps came to a halt once he caught sight of Hashirama. His mouth curled up into the most wicked grin ever and Madara had barely enough time to cover the rounds of laughter that were sure to sprout out of his mouth with the palm of his hand.

“You keep quiet!” Madara said harshly, irritation creeping into his tone. 

“Great, isn't it? He looks like a full-fledged Uchiha now, don’t you agree?” Tajima stroked the top of Hashirama’s head as he said so, and the action had Izuna squirming with repressed laughter under Madara’s tight grasp. 

Madara’s mouth opened and closed, not knowing what to say. Was this some sort of stupid prank? It had to be, why on earth would his father put Hashirama in an Uchiha attire so out of the blue and make him look like… _that_? 

“No! There’s nothing wrong with Hahirama’s other clothes, I gave them to him and they’re perfectly fine! He looks-” 

“Like a dickhead,” The statement slipped faintly past the fingers Madara had clamped over Izuna’s mouth in a vain attempt to keep him from laughing out loud. 

“Shut up!” Madara hissed, squeezing down on Izuna’s mouth, “You’re both big jerks,”

“What was that now?” Tajima asked, lifting an incredulous eyebrow at the bundle of stifled chuckles that was Izuna.

Madara said nothing, opting instead on letting go of his brother to come to Hashirama’s aid. Not wasting any more time, he promptly focused on unfastening the coat’s seams to free Hashirama from it. 

“Excuse me?” Tajima gasped, taking in an offended posture, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? Getting rid of this cursed thing obviously!”

“And what have we talked about, Madara? This type of display of affection is prohibited under this roof, especially right in front of me!” 

Heat flared on Madara’s face at the twisted insinuations, his evident embarrassment fueling Izuna’s mirth even more so, “It– I’m not– It’s not like that at all! What is wrong with you!?”

“Then stop undressing him!”

“I’m doing him a favour! You’re not allowed to take Hashirama out anymore!”

The situation was becoming too much to handle. Izuna was bent over, holding his stomach as he was unable to contain his hearty rounds of laughter. Madara couldn’t believe the show that had just erupted, all courtesy of his dad’s brilliant ideas. How embarrassing, the man was entirely oblivious to silly jokes like this but immediately had his head in the gutter when the most minimal scenarios involved him and Hashirama. They had to get out of there, for Hashirama’s sake. He looked so utterly confused, switching his eyes from side to side, not knowing where to look at for answers to this mess. 

“We’re taking a bath now! So don’t bother!” With that being said, Madara took a hold of Hashirama’s wrist and stomped toward the bathing room, throwing the heavy dark cloak at Tajima’s face as he went, getting a grunt in response. 

“That was the funniest thing ever!” Izuna muttered between chortles, “Not even I could pull that good of a prank!”

“...What? Explain yourself, kid!” 

Izuna stared in disbelief, then nearly choked with his own laughter.

* * *

“I’m sorry about all that,” Madara said, rinsing away any residual suds of soap off his back before he could join Hashirama in the bathtub.

“It’s alright, you’ve apologized already,”

“I know but still…” 

Hashirama waded to the opposite side of the tub, leaving a spot for Madara to sink in beside him. The two of them fit rather tight and snug inside the tub, cramped together as they relaxed in the hot water. The lack of space was hardly an inconvenience. Getting to be this close to Hashirama and feeling his soothing warmth was always enjoyable, and an activity Madara looked forward to the most after a tiresome day.

“Are you sure you’re not upset?” Madara pried, watching as Hashirama drew his knees up to his chin, sending droplets of water to his nose with the movement.

Hashirama nodded but Madara wasn’t convinced. He could tell there was something bugging him as he could feel an air of gloominess hovering around him.

“Please tell me?” he tried again, this time bringing his fingers up to sweep aside sodden strands of hair off Hashirama’s temple and tucking them behind his ear. 

“Um, I guess I was expecting you’d be happier to see me in your clan’s clothing,” Hashirama said mildly, “Because that way I look more like I’m actually a part of your family,” 

Madara’s mouth parted slightly. So that was the reason Hashirama had been so unusually quiet back when they were scrubbing each other clean just a moment ago. Sudden guilt had Madara wishing he could’ve seen this coming earlier. Without knowing, he had made Hashirama feel unappreciated. He was so selfish, but the thought hadn’t crossed his mind at all. Much less with the mess Izuna and his dad had created back there, causing his brain to jump all over the place and giving him no time to collect himself. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad or give you a bad impression when I saw you,” 

Hashirama looked at him with round, glossy eyes, his eyebrows were somewhat furrowed and Madara feared he’d start tearing up anytime soon. This was all his own fault. The only reason Hashirama was now living with them was because he had promised to take care of him and to make him happy, but he had gone ahead and broken his promise like a complete fool. 

“Hashirama,” Madara called to him, cupping the curve of his jaw in a palm, “You’re already a very important part of my family, don’t think some piece of fabric can define whether you are or not,” 

Hashirama lifted his head and a small grin spread across his lips, “I am? You really mean it?” 

Madara nodded and grasped both sides of his face firmly, drawing him in closer, “You don’t need to change the way you dress or look like. I really do like you... just the way you are,” He shyly confessed, and tilting his neck forward, he scattered a series of light kisses on Hashirama’s damp, burning cheeks. 

Hashirama giggled at the genuine affection and took it as a cue to huddle closer into Madara’s space, so close their chests met and their legs hooked together underneath the steaming water.

“I really like you, too,” Hashima said through an alleviated whisper, then closed the scarce distance between their faces until the tip of their noses brushed affectionately, “More than anything,” 

* * *

  
  


Now that they were clean and dry, Madara wanted nothing more than to lay down and catch up with Hashirama about their day. It sounded like the nicest thing to do to pass the time before supper was served. He slid the door open, with the intention of following such plans, but was brought to an unpleasant halt by the sight in front of him. Both Izuna and his father were standing right outside the bathing room, blocking any possible exit routes, apparently waiting for Hashirama and him to come out.

“What do you want now?” Madara grumbled, making sure to convey his annoyance with a scowl. He didn’t feel like talking to either of them for the rest of the evening. 

“So… Izuna told me what that all was about and,” Tajima started, “Hashirama, son, I’d like to apologize, it was not my intention to make you go through… any of that. Getting you new clothes held no vile intentions, I swear,” He tipped his chin down, emphasizing his words. 

To Madara’s ears, that had certainly been the lamest apology he had ever heard in his life. Even so, he could tell his father felt remorseful, and Hashirama seemed content as he waved him off saying everything was alright and he wasn’t upset at him or the younger boy.

“Izuna, apologize to Hashirama,” Thrusting a giggling Izuna in front of him, Tajima commanded, “Go on, and be honest,” 

“I’m so–” Izuna bent his head down, poorly suppressing the chuckles that continued spilling past his lips, “so–rr–” 

“Apologize properly, brat!” Tajima pushed Izuna’s head lower with a forceful grip, “Go on, apologize to your older brother Hashirama,” 

The aggravation on their dad’s face was hilarious and Izuna seemed to be aware of the effect he was getting from him. Madara was convinced he was mainly laughing about how he had successfully riled him up.

“I’m sorry!” he finally spat out and Tajima let go of him with a weary sigh, “It won’t happen again,”

Madara rolled his eyes. _Of course it won’t_ , he thought sarcastically to himself, _you little lying weasel._

“It’s all good,” Hashirama said, then patted Izuna’s head, who flinched at the contact and went to hide behind Tajima’s dark robes. 

“Anyway…” Tajima breathed in deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose before letting go so he could glare at his younger son, “Izuna, go fetch dinner at aunt’s house, she’s waiting for it to be picked up,” 

Izuna huffed, “Can Madara come with me?” 

“No. You’re going alone, it’s your punishment for being such a disrespectful brat,”

Izuna pursed his lips, then simply shot all three of them a nasty look and turned around to make a run for the entrance. Tajima watched curiously after him and gasped in horror the second he realized he had jumped outside barefoot, deliberately leaving the doors wide open behind him.

“Wait a min- Hey, Izuna! Hey!!” Tajima darted after the scurrying kid, grabbing the small sandals purposely left behind before he was out of the house, screaming as he chased after him, “What the hell are you doing, son?! Put on your damn sandals, will you? Hell, where are your manners!?” 

Izuna replied back with a wave of cheeky comments, most of them went unheard by Madara as the distance between their house and the ridiculous altercation increased. Once more had Izuna successfully tricked their dad into fulfilling his whims, driving him out of the house so he wouldn't have to go alone to aunt’s house. What a sneaky devil. 

“Let me help you brush your hair before it gets all fuzzy,” 

Madara’s attention was snatched by Hashirama, who had twined their fingers tenderly as he spoke. He was smiling, broad and honest, and the contented lilt of his voice was enough to erase the previous tense ambience that had put him so on edge earlier. 

“Yeah,” he agreed, returning the smile and following Hashirama as he began to lead him down the corridor, “Let’s go to our bedroom,”

**Author's Note:**

> omg they have their own lil room in the house 🥺
> 
> Also hbd to Mads


End file.
